Passing Time
by AzraelPhoenix
Summary: Time doesn't stop for anyone, not even Bucky Barnes. Mentions of period-typical homophobia. Oneshot minific.


At ten, James Barnes fell in love the same way he did everything: fast, wholeheartedly, and with Steve Rogers. He didn't realise what it meant at the time, didn't realise that in the eyes of most people, it was a bad thing. He didn't think about it in the forever kind of way either. Right now, he loved Steve, and that meant protecting him from anything that tried to hurt him.

_Who do you love the most?_ A question, posed to the classroom at the start of every year. Answers changed year to year, person to person. _Mum _said one, _my puppy!_ said another, but Bucky's answer never changed. He never hesitated. _Steve Rogers_. At ten, his teachers found it endearing, his classmates found it funny, and Bucky had never been happier than when Steve would answer _Bucky Barnes_, just as unwaveringly.

At twelve, Bucky realised that there were some things he _couldn't_ protect Steve from. Every year, almost like clockwork, Steve got sick. Mrs Rogers was always prepared, with medication, warm food, and a small cot for Bucky to sleep on. She and Bucky's parents had learnt very quickly that the only way to keep Bucky from acting out while Steve was sick was to let them stay together. Steve, however, got sick so often that Bucky stayed at his place nearly as much as he slept in his own bed. Steve got sick when it was starting to get cold, his asthma getting so bad that Bucky was afraid to sleep, staying awake to make sure the harsh wheezing continued through the night, his heart stuttering every time Steve had paused between breaths. The coming of spring brought on allergies, headcolds, and whatever else was going around at the time. It was at twelve that Bucky realised, that despite all his love for Steve, and all of the determination in his young body, he couldn't protect Steve from himself.

At sixteen, Bucky found out that he didn't just love Steve rogers, he was _in love_ with him. He started noticing just how absolutely beautiful this skinny little kid from Brooklyn actually was. He started wondering exactly how those determined blue eyes would look after their first kiss, and how that perfectly groomed golden hair would look, tousled from Bucky's fingers, and how that pale skin would look sprawled nude over his bed sheets. And frankly, that scared him a little. Bucky knew he wasn't supposed to think about Steve like that, knew that he was supposed to be charming the dames, chasing after anything in a skirt. So he did what he was supposed to do, hid the love he wasn't supposed to feel, and tried his hardest to be the man society expected him to be.

At twenty five, Bucky realised that Steve didn't need him anymore. Steve was big, bigger than him even, and Bucky wasn't exactly small. Steve was strong, could probably toss a car through a brick wall single-handedly now. Worst of all, Steve was now attracting female attention. After so long with nobody to compete with for Steve's affections, and his time, Bucky barely saw him some weeks, as he was off being Captain America here, or attending secret military meetings there. The war had changed them both, in more ways than one, but Steve was still the most important thing to Bucky. He still loved Steve with every fibre of his being. Before the war, he was always so certain that if he asked if Steve loved him, Steve would never hesitate to say yes. But now? Now he wasn't so sure.

At twenty eight, he prayed for Steve to find him. Prayed to die, prayed for the pain to stop, prayed for someone to find him, prayed for this to all just be a dream. At twenty eight, he lost who he was, became an asset, a tool, a weapon. At twenty eight, he lost Steve, but not the way he had expected it to happen. At twenty eight, Bucky Barnes died.

At ninety seven, The Winter Soldier became a man again, became James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes once more.

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><p><strong>Friendly reminder that I post most of my stuff under the same username on AO3 now, as I prefer the formatting.<strong>


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